


Strawberry House

by shslprisoner



Category: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Canon Compliant, Im emotional, Possibly Unrequited Love, a LOT of spoilers 4 do ultimate robots dream of clockwork, but i didnt! now i have depression, funky..... i love emotions, shoulda writen this from soudas pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-10 22:35:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13511166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shslprisoner/pseuds/shslprisoner
Summary: “Seriously, Tanaka, what the hell is with you?” Souda mutters and Gundham doesn’t think it was an insult but it still feels like a punch to the gut.//Souda lives. Gundham does not. Major spoilers for chapter 4 of the second game.





	Strawberry House

**Author's Note:**

> \- "wow ao3 user gaygundham this isnt a chatfic" you may be saying
> 
> \- yeah. it certainly is not
> 
> \- anyways as if i havent said it enough, big spoilers!!!! for chap 4!!!!! dont be like younger me and spoil yourself
> 
> \- that canon compliant tag might not be accurate bc i repressed chapter 4 so. shrug
> 
> \- enjoy this poetic bullshit i guess. im tired

He is going to fucking die.

 

Hinata is too good - much too good to miss this one, and he knows it. It’s not like he would want him to, after all, that was the purpose of this murder, after all.

 

He’s lying in his room. The devas tickle his neck, nervously shivering inside their fabric cave. They know their fate is sealed. If only, he thinks, If only.

 

He knows the others are investigating. He knows Komaeda is probably already in the Final Dead Room. He knows Hinata will figure this out. He knows he will die. He knows he will never escape, never be free, never reach his goals, his dreams, and he knows. He knows.

 

He is Gundham Tanaka. He knows all.

 

He has been to hell a thousand times, he has suffered the whims of a thousand years, but nothing he has seen or heard or felt in his multitudinous past lives has been remotely comparable to the excruciation he faces lying face down in his bed waiting for the next day to come. Waiting for the class trial. Waiting for his death warrant.

 

He still has all his clothes on. The straps of his boots wrap tight around his calves, his contact itches in his right eye, his coat suffocates him.

 

There’s a knock on his door. For a moment, his heart leaps. He tamps it, and clambers out of his bed. It’s nearly midnight, who could be calling on him in this devilish hour?

 

He opens the door. It’s Sonia.

 

His heart falls further.

 

She says something - anything, about the trial, about hope, about N. He daren’t speak the names of the dead. He’s not really listening.

 

He thinks Sonia notices that he isn’t really replying. Simple nods, hums. Nothing she says processes, but she taps him on the shoulder and gives him a look.

 

She questions him. Her use of slang is still off - no, he isn’t “out of it”. He says he requires rest.

 

She leaves, but he does not.

 

He hangs out of the door, purposeless. A flag in the breeze, he sways, and sways, but never leaves. He doesn’t think anyone’s watching him so he just. Stays. Staring vacantly out at where Sonia departed, out into the world, out past the islands and the sea and the cities.

 

Well, where there were cities. Out past the wasteland left in their wake.

 

He knows.

 

A door opens. He’s staring.

 

Souda looks at his weary form once, then again, then stares right back. His stare is not one of bittersweet longing and lonely nights, his is one of hellfire and hatred. Souda’s is a glare of passion, but not the variety Gundham so wishes it was.

 

They stare until Souda moves. He strolls down the hall to the commons, but for what purpose Gundham knows not. Even his all seeing eyes cannot pierce through the motives of such a man.

 

He leaves, but Gundham does not.

 

The devas peer out. They are the only things in this house that would’ve lived.

 

He could’ve just not done it. He could’ve waited, for Kuzuryuu, for Sonia, for someone else to cave. He could’ve waited and waited and waited and he would’ve starved and starved and starved. He took the initiative causality placed in his hands.

 

He wavers still. If he stays out here longer, he knows someone will get suspicious. Someone will call his bluff.

 

Gundham does not care. He does not care what is true, what he knows.

 

He moves. Down the hall, to the yet open door. Souda is not around. He enters.

 

The sheets are tossed aside to the floor, the bed distraught. There is nothing to make it seem lived in, no personal effects, no bright colours or oil stains or little machines halfway tinkered with. Gundham supposes this is to be expected. After all, he’s never really been to Souda’s room and anyways this isn’t even it. It’s just a temporary space where Souda has been.

 

Gundham sits down on the seemingly war-torn bed. He inhales the scent around him, exhales his own stale breath. He doesn’t know what he came here for.

 

Confirmation, perhaps. Closure. A fulfillment of a dream. A whim of causality.

 

He stands up. He nearly wants to linger, to be caught in the act. He almost wishes Souda would step in now, ask him what he’s doing, reprimand him, scold him, reject him, anything to get Souda to talk to him. Even with contempt in the heart of the other man, Gundham would take it if just for a chance to speak with him.

 

Gundham leaves.

 

He’s halfways back to his own domain of respite when he hears someone call to him. He turns, of course, but he already knows who it is.

 

Souda squints at him. “Are you ok?” Souda asks, hesitantly. Gundham’s not sure what tipped him off. Was it the staring? The wilting onto door frames like a scorned lover? He scoffs.

 

“I am fine, fool, a Demon Lord such as I never falls below peak performance!” He says, mustering some bravado. After all, who is Gundham Tanaka without his otherworldly pretenses?

 

“If you say so, man,” comes Souda’s reply. He looks perturbed, something about his demeanor simply… off. The quirk of his eyebrows too low, his lips curved down too far. What Gundham wouldn’t do to wipe it right off his face. What Gundham wouldn’t do to see a sharp-toothed smile directed his way.

 

Souda turns on his heel to go and Gundham’s heart sinks. He takes a step. It’s like a dance, Gundham supposes, the way they turn around each other in these brief moments together. He wishes he was better at dancing.

 

Souda must hear the click of his heels against the floor. Suddenly Gundham is faced with a look of confusion as he’s caught halfway to stopping Souda. He retracts the hand he hadn’t noticed was ever extended and his facade nearly slips.

 

“Seriously, Tanaka, what the hell is with you?” Souda mutters and Gundham doesn’t think it was an insult but it still feels like a punch to the gut. “You’ve been acting really weird.” Souda smirks to himself. “Well, weirder than normal.”

 

“Ah, well,” Gundham says, stalling for time. Really, what was he doing? What could he tell Souda? It’s not as if was going to admit to being the blackened just because he was confused over his stupid, idiotic, mortal, fucking WHATEVER this was. Gundham may be all-knowing, but the concept of emotions occasionally escapes his grasp. But lying simply wasn’t an option. “You will discover soon, Souda Kazuichi, what has changed me in such a manner that even my escapades through the pits of hell could not!” That’s probably vague enough.

 

Apparently not, from the look Souda gives him. Gundham thinks he might have fucked up.

 

“You better not be the culprit.” Souda squints even further. “If you end up dying tomorrow I’ll kill you again.” Gundham takes a step back. His heart flutters but he shoves that down.

 

“Fuahaha, as if I would ever die!” Gundham retorts. It’s a futile attempt at something typically much more boisterous but Souda doesn’t seem to notice this time.

 

“Sure, Tanaka.” Souda seems to drop his worried pretense to throw a mocking comment his way, but quickly his sneer turns into a look of panic. “Ah! Of course, I’ll kill you because you broke Miss Sonia’s heart. I hate you so I’d actually be really happy when you die but Miss Sonia would be sad so I’ll kill you for making her sad. So, don’t die tomorrow, okay?” He rambles, trying to save face when it never really was in danger. There’s a pink in his cheeks that nearly gives Gundham hope, but he shoves that down as well.

 

“The Overlord of Ice would never stoop so low as to take an unfulfilled life! The trial on the morrow will reveal naught but the truth.” While it’s not a lie, it is more far from the truth than he wishes. The life he took was fulfilled, given to him, a sacrifice that needed to be made. He is not innocent by any standards, and Monokuma knows this. He will not come out of this alive.

 

It seems enough to quell Souda’s worries, vague as it is, and he nods.

 

He leaves but Gundham could want for nothing more than for him to stay.

 

Gundham returns to his room and sheds his coat. His boots are off next, then his contacts. His scarf is placed ever so gently onto the nightstand. He flops onto his bed with none of the dignity he wished he had. The Devas peek out, not truly wanting to confront or comfort their owner.

 

Sleep escapes him that night. He stares at the ceiling and wishes it had gone some other way.

 

When the morning announcement echoes through the halls he knows it’s time. Hajime is surely already up. So is Sonia, he knows. Akane. He knows.

 

He dresses himself. He nearly leaves the Devas wrapped in his scarf behind, for fear of his execution not going the way he knows it will.

 

He walks his way to where the purveyors of his doom stand. The trial is about to start. It is time for him to play the villain, a stark contrast, he thinks, from what he convinced Souda of last night.

 

Hinata will get it right, he knows. They will kill him, he knows. It will be for a good cause. He knows.

 

Monokuma opens the elevator. His classmates enter. Souda gives him a look.

 

He knows.

 

He is Gundham Tanaka, and he is going to fucking die.

**Author's Note:**

> \- find me on twitter @ shslprisoner and on tumblr @ gaygundham
> 
> \- i was supposed to write two essays but i didnt in favour of this so fguess ill die
> 
> \- some notes on how i write gundham: i prefer to use more typical if poetic speech patterns when he's speaking to himself bc he doesnt have his whole demon lord facade up. it still affects his thought but not to the extent it does his speech. i refer to it, of course, as a facade or mask since hes known to simply play the villain for the most part and not reveal his true thoughts. thats the reason for more obscene language, lack of pomp, and the like. this is probably incoherent
> 
> \- drop a comment, kudos, &c. if you enjoyed. reprimand me if you feel the need. i just like feedback


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